The Danger of Being Me

I completely forgot to share the most exciting part of my chicken canning experience. As my husband was preparing the last of the chickens, I checked out the camping stove and canner, he had set up.

He had some water boiling, at first intending to pluck the birds. And we were just looking out over our property and animals, chatting and laughing.

I glanced down.

"I'm on FIRE!"

Yes. I screamed like a little girl. I flailed my arms up and down and repeated it as flames were climbing my skirt and sweater.

"I'm on FIRE!"

I had no idea what to do. I thought my husband helped me, but he says he did not. My flailing must have put out the flames that were climbing up on my clothing. Apparently I leaned too close to my camp stove and my skirt, which tied in the front, had some tassels sticking out into the open, very hot flames.

I am ok. Completely unharmed. And other than the most minuscule discoloring of my skirt tassels, my clothing was also ok.

I am the most graceless, klutzy human being to walk the planet.

It is kind of dangerous being me. And maybe near me too. So if you join me on cooking day.... stand back. :)